It Was the Way
by beautyineveryinch
Summary: It was the way she said his name. The inflection she placed on the first syllable, how her lips curved slightly at the corners when she said it.


A/N: Just something I wrote one day. I'm working on a few different Sirius/OC stories, but won't publish them until I finish them. So until then, I have a few little drabbles sitting around to post. I don't own Sirius-thank J.K. for that. Thanks for reading!

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It was the way she said his name. The inflection she placed on the first syllable, how her lips curved slightly at the corners when she said it. The way she moaned it, in breathy gasps when they made love. And when she said _I love you_ and _I miss you_. The yearning in his chest at those three phrases was one of the best feelings in the world.

It was the way her hair smelled when he buried his nose in it. It was flowery with a hint of vanilla. He reveled in the way her skin smelled of eucalyptus soap when he would press his lips to the crook of her neck.

It was the way her lips fit against his. Pink, curved, sometimes soft and tasting of strawberries and mint. Sometimes chapped and cold from the bite of the winter winds. The way her lips trailed across his jaw, down his neck, across his shoulder, leaving his skin on fire with each touch. The way her tongue skimmed across his lip and darted into his mouth, memorizing every corner. The way her breath ghosted, warm and moist along his skin, each ragged breath rumbling against his ear. The way her lips were gentle and earnest when they said _I love you_. The urgency and fire they possessed when carnal passion took over. The way her eyes opened slowly and locked with his for a second before drawing her lips away.

It was the way she laughed. The way _he_ could make her laugh. How her lips curved up, reaching for her eyes. Dimples deep against her cheeks, squishing her cheeks under her bright eyes. Her eyes twinkling, bright, and golden, and green glimmering in the light. The sound of her laugh, just the right pitch. Always so real, never fake—at least not when it was him making her laugh.

It was the way she sat drawing or painting. Her eyes furrowed in concentration, tongue slightly poking out as she shaded and colored. The way her hand stroked across the canvas. The way she squinted out in front of her at the object of her composition. The way her hands fidgeted slightly as she showed off her piece to others for their opinion.

It was the way her hands fit in his. The molded together seamlessly into each crevice. How small hers was in his. The long, cold fingers gentle against his warm, calloused ones. The way her height was just right so when they held hands while walking, neither arm was bent at an uncomfortable level. The way her hand would always reach out for his, like she wanted nothing more than to hold onto him tightly.

It was the way her body felt against his. Her soft, cool skin refreshing against his warmth. The way her legs tangled between his. The way her head always found that one spot on his shoulder that was just the right spot for him to lie his against the crown of her head. The way her frame molded into his when he hugged her and her arms wrapped around his waist snugly. The way the slope of her waist and the curve of her breast pressed against his skin, warmth and smoothness of her skin flush against his.

It was the way she squared her shoulders and thinned her lips when she was arguing with him. How she would shout. It was like fire dancing in her eyes. The way she would swat his hand away, then mumble an apology later for hurting him. He would laugh, because she never hurt him, but she always felt bad when she did it. The way she would storm around the room, demanding presence. She was like an infuriated goddess. And she would get so mad when he would smile slightly at how captivating she was; fiery and so, very stunning.

It was the way she cried into his shoulder, dampening his shirt. The way her fingers curled and clutched at the fabric as her body trembled and shuddered against his. The way her makeup smeared against her cheek; the feeling of her skin as his thumbs gently wiped away the smudges. The feel of her spine as he rubbed his hand up and down her back comfortingly. The endearing way her face scrunched up, red, damp, and pale. The way her breath would slowly even out when she settled, warm against his neck. The way her body would relax and curl into his. The way his heart would ache in his chest because he wanted to burn the world if it would ensure she never felt that sadness again.

It was the way she slept. Lips slightly curved upwards, open slightly. Innocence and tranquility in her features. The paleness of her skin, making the pink of her lips stand out. The gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. The way her arm would curl around his waist lazily, always touching him.

It was the way she would wear his clothes. His shirt draping loosely on her thin frame. When she would walk around with just her panties peeking out under the hem of the shirt, long legs catching his eye. The way the smell of her shampoo and lotion and soap would stay behind on the fabric. The way she always looked breathtaking no matter if she was wearing pajamas and a messy bun or dressed up and hair brushed, waving gently down her back.

It was the way she would give him a bite of her food followed by a quick kiss on his lips without him asking. The way she would grab two napkins because he would always forget to get one for himself. The way she would put his keys back by the door whenever they came home so he could find them later. The way she would always leave space for him to sit with her on the couch. The way she would place a cup of water at his bedside table before going to bed for when he woke up thirsty in the middle of the night. All the little things she did for him. The sincerity of her actions.

It was the way she put one spoonful of sugar and one of cream into her earl grey and stirred it ten times after letting the tea bag sit for eight minutes. The way she sipped quietly as she curled up into the chair on the balcony staring up at the expansive night sky. Her thoughtful eyes wandering over the moon and the stars, desperately reaching out for something greater than herself. The way she always pointed out the star Sirius and the constellation along with it when he would quietly sit down next to her.

It was the way his heart would thrum when he saw her toothbrush next to his. The content he felt at her shoes piled up next to his haphazardly by the front door. The feminine touches mixed with his messes.

It was the way they joked. A sarcastic quip followed by a lewd comment. The way she could counter his witticism. Her clever comebacks. The way she could keep up with and add to his extravagant schemes. The way she humbled his inflated ego with a sharp retort.

It was the way she carried herself. Confidently most of the time, standing tall and proud, exuding grace. At times nervously with slouched shoulders, restless hands, apprehensive glances.

It was the way he longed for her every second and thanked everything good that he was fortunate enough to have her as his. He felt like the luckiest person in the world, in the great big universe she loved to stare up on clear nights.

It was the way she was so very much her. She was the most beautiful, incredible, extraordinary being.

It was the way he loved her. All of her.


End file.
